


Mickey Pan

by crimsonswirls, koganphrancis



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Fluff, GW2017A, Gallavich Week-Year 5, M/M, Rated Teen for Language and mention of canon-level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonswirls/pseuds/crimsonswirls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganphrancis/pseuds/koganphrancis
Summary: A tale of a bold and adventurous boy with very little interest in ever growing up.





	1. Mickey Pan

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank and gush over my artist, crimsonswirls, for answering my call when I sent her a draft of the first chapter and a summary of the epilogue with very little advance notice and she came up with brilliant art to enhance my little story. Your pictures make me warm inside, that's the best way I can think to describe my reactions to them. Thank you so much for making these for me!
> 
> Lines in italics are directly from JM Barrie.

 

Every night for weeks now, months even (it started in the earliest days of spring) Mickey had been coming to this particular window to hear the pretty girl with big brown eyes read about a boy wizard to a bunch of little kids strung out along a bed under the window.

At first what caught Mickey’s attention as he made his nightly rounds flitting from tree branch to rooftop and back again, his feet hardly ever touching the ground, was the flare of red that caught his eye from across the street. It reminded Mickey of the most vivid sunsets he had ever seen, somehow transferred to the bottom corner of a window.

Now it was the first night warm enough to have the windows open, and Fiona was more than happy to let some fresh air into the boys’ room after a long, cold winter. The boy in the tree could hear the girl’s voice clearly while she read, and that made it even better. All the kids were lined up on Ian’s bed-Debbie way up by the pillow, then Fiona with the library book open on her lap, then Carl, then Lip, and finally Ian at the foot of his own bed, a little separated from the rest but still listening intently as Fiona read the tales of the good friends at a wizarding school in England. Every night since the first night, Mickey had been going back to keep up with the story. He’d sit still as a mouse (Mickey could be quiet and keep still when he absolutely had to, but it wasn’t easy for him) and listen while the kids would drop off to sleep, one by one. He noticed that the redhead closest to the window, who drew his attention in the first place, was always the last to give in, begging the girl to read “just one more page” while she tried to tell the other kids to get in their beds. She usually gave in, and then the next night would go back over what the others had slept through, leaving the redheaded boy a few minutes to get settled more comfortably or not pay close attention to her reading, as the case may be.

That’s probably why one Friday evening ( _of course it was a Friday_ ) he was looking out the window when he normally would’ve been listening to a very exciting passage from the book. Mickey had had to leave early the night before, but he knew the brown haired girl would re-read most if not all he had missed, but he was anxious not to miss it again and was leaning a little closer towards the window from his branch than he normally would have been. The red haired boy caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and spied a white white face splotched with dirt right outside his window.

“Hello, who are you?” the redhead asked, his head tilted in curiously.

“Shhh,” his older brother hissed, elbowing him hard in the side for good measure.

Ian punched Lip’s thigh and said, “Shhh yourself. I wanna know who that is.” He pointed at the window but by this time Mickey had retreated up to a higher branch, disappearing into the leaves.

“Ian, shut up and listen to the story,” Fiona said in her reading voice, never looking up from the book.

Ian got up on his knees and stuck his head out the window. Fiona hadn’t found the time to put the screens in yet for the warmer months. Ian didn’t see anything and was just about to duck his head back inside when he heard a high little voice, talking so rapidly he couldn’t make out the words. It reminded him of chimes or tiny little bells like their neighbor used to have hanging from strings that blew in the wind on their porch till someone ripped them off. Ian tilted his head up and peered into the higher branches and he could just see a boy and a girl up there, straddling the same branch and talking to each other-well, the girl was doing all the talking and the boy with the white face splotched with dirt was just listening, his arms hugging himself tight across his chest.

 

“Hello up there! Who are you?” Ian called up.

“Now you’ve done it,” the boy growled at the scrawny girl. She said something in her high quiet voice that Ian couldn’t make out, but the boy said to her, “Yes, his hair is very pretty, now shut up.”

The boy swung down back to the branch right outside the window as easily as most people would walk down a few stairs of a staircase, the little girl following behind so quickly she seemed to be flying rather than climbing. The boy squatted on the branch outside Ian’s window, the girl right at his back.

“Won’t you please come in?” Ian asked, moving back and making room on the bed for the strangers.

By this point all the other kids inside had circled around Ian to see what was going on out there.

“Back up, give them room to come in,” Ian said, pushing and elbowing at the nearest siblings. Surprisingly, everyone did (they usually didn’t listen to Ian very much, but they were just as curious as he was to meet these kids).

The boy in the tree rubbed his thumb along his lower lip, considering, then he shrugged and stepped from the branch to the windowsill as if it were nothing. He scooted through the window quick as a wink, but when he turned around and stuck his hand out to pull the girl in, she shook her head ferociously at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Suit yourself,” he said to her, and she stomped one of her little feet on the tree branch and then flew back up the tree out of sight.

The black haired boy stepped off the bed and turned to face the group that was staring at him. He wore a zip up hoodie that probably started out dark green in color, but now was streaked with dirt and maybe some oil and it had been washed and hung out on a line to dry so often the green had faded considerably. The sleeves were cut off (by the boy himself, when he inherited it as a hand-me-down twice removed from his third eldest brother) and the string to the hood was long gone. His pants were a pair of faded and equally stained jeans from Goodwill that fit him too tightly around the thighs and calves but too loosely around the waist. On his feet he wore very broken-in construction boots that most likely wouldn’t last him the summer.

All the kids were staring at him openly-Lip with suspicion, Debbie and Carl with curiosity, Fiona with concern (why was this boy so dirty? Why would his mother let him go out looking like that?), and Ian with admiration.

“You’re really good at climbing trees,” Ian breathed, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“I know,” Mickey agreed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. _To put it with brutal frankness, there never was a cockier boy._

“I’m Ian,” Ian said. “What’s your name?” His big green eyes hadn’t blinked since Mickey had come into the room.

“Mickey,” Mickey said, looking around. His eyes rested on Fiona. “Is that your mother?”

Lip snorted. Fiona punched his arm and whispered, “Be nice.”

“Naw, that’s my sister, Fiona,” Ian said. “And that’s my big brother Lip, my little brother Carl, and my little sister Debbie.”

Mickey nodded, he had heard all their names at various times when he was sitting outside the window, but he really thought the big girl was their mother and they just called her by her name.

“Where do you live?” Ian asked, since it seemed like Mickey wasn’t going to keep the conversation going.

Mickey gestured out the window. _“Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”_

Lip snorted again. “Bullshit,” he murmured softly, figuring the black haired kid wouldn’t hear him, but a lifetime of listening to his little sister’s soft voice had attuned Mickey’s ears to the quietest of comments.

“It’s not bullshit, asshole. It’s where I come from.”

“Sounds cool,” Ian said sincerely. Mickey looked at him closely to see if he was making fun of him, but the kid’s big eyes didn’t shy away.

“Okay, kids, it’s getting late. Say goodnight to Mickey and let’s get back to the story,” Fiona said.

Ian looked at Mickey. “Do you want to stay and listen?” he asked. Mickey nodded.

“Fiona…,” Lip whined.

“Here, you can sit next to me,” Ian said quickly, before Lip could talk Fiona into making the new boy leave. Ian bounced onto the foot of his bed and patted the spot next to him, inviting Mickey to sit. Mickey looked to Fiona.

“Your parents don’t mind you being out so late?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m always out later than this,” Mickey said confidently.

“Okay, you can stay to listen if you’d like,” Fiona said, getting back on the bed herself. Lip looked like he was going to say something, but Ian stuck his tongue out at him and he had to pretend not to let it bother him. All the kids settled into their usual places, except this time Ian was perpendicular to his siblings so he could be next to Mickey.

Fiona read for a while and then said it was time for bed. Mickey went to climb out the window, but Fiona insisted he go downstairs and use the door. He grumbled, but did as she said. A few moments later, Ian was looking out his window and he saw Mickey out in the branches again. Mickey pressed his face up to the glass of the now closed window and waved at Ian. Ian beamed a smile at him and waved back.

The next day being a Saturday, Ian didn’t have to go to school. He was in the backyard with Lip and Carl and Debbie, standing off by himself near the stairs to the kitchen door because they were playing tag and his siblings didn’t like it when he played because he had the longest legs and could always outrun them or tag them if they made him be “It” to start the game. Lip had decided to just eliminate the futile nature of trying to play tag with Ian by not letting him play at all-plus he told Ian he’d be a pussy if he went crying to Fiona about it.

So Ian was just standing, watching, and feeling more than a little bit sorry for himself when something gently plonked off his head. It was a little rubber super ball that kept bouncing once it fell to the ground after hitting his head. Next a little plastic figure with a bright orange parachute floated down, and when Ian went to chase it, a Frisbee went sailing by him. He finally thought to look up, back at the house. On the small roof over the backdoor he saw Mickey, his legs stretched out in front of him on the little roof. He was grinning and pulling something out of his hoodie pocket-it was an old tennis ball, the yellow fuzz on it aged to a weird combination of dinge and fluorescent. Mickey tossed the ball from one hand to the other and then lightly lobbed it to Ian so he could catch it, which he did with a laugh.

Ian’s laugh caught the other kids’ attention, and they stopped chasing each other around to see what made Ian happy. They followed Ian’s gaze to the little roof, and once Mickey had an audience he gracefully slid down one side of the slope, twisted and grabbed the side of the roof at just the last second, swung back and forth twice to build up momentum, and landed on the back porch and then slid down the banister facing outwards and landing on his feet in the backyard. Ian’s eyes and mouth were matching O’s of wonder, and even Lip looked impressed.

“Hi, Mickey!” Ian called. All the kids started walking towards Mickey, and Carl’s foot stepped on the super ball. He crouched down and picked it up.

“Look what I found!” he called, running to catch up to all the kids.

“It’s Mickey’s,” Ian said. “He tossed it down from up there.”

“Can I keep it?” Carl said.

Mickey frowned a little-he wanted Ian to have it.

“It’s Mickey’s,” Ian repeated, emphasizing Mickey’s name like it was important.

“Nah, it ain’t mine, I just found it,” Mickey said breezily. “I find lots of cool shit up on roofs and in gutters. I brought this stuff for you.” He meant for Ian, but the others started looking around. Debbie spied the little man with the parachute and Lip saw the Frisbee and they both went running for them and scooped them up.

“Hey! I want the GI Joe!” Carl yelled out.

“It’s mine!” Debbie shrieked, turning away from Carl who was now trying to grab it from her.

“Carl, you know Fiona would just take that away from you-you know you can’t have figurines because you always stick them in the microwave,” Lip said. “Either keep the super ball or trade it for this Frisbee.” Lip knew Carl would keep the ball-and try to sneak it into the microwave.

“What did you get, Ian?” Debbie asked.

“This,” Ian grinned, bouncing the tennis ball on the hard dirt of their backyard and catching it. “That is, if you’re sure I can keep it,” he said, looking shyly at Mickey.

“Of course you can,” Mickey said.

“Great! Wanna play catch?” They wound up inventing a game where they rotated throwing the tennis ball and Frisbee around to each other, but after a while Carl, Debbie, and Lip got bored and went inside to watch cartoons and Ian and Mickey kept tossing the tennis ball back and forth, backing up a step every time till they were further and further apart. Lip had been trying to play that too, but he couldn’t throw as far as the other boys with any kind of accuracy and gave up.

After a couple of hours Fiona stuck her head out the backdoor and yelled, “Ian! Dinner!” Ian and Mickey trudged up the back steps but then Mickey climbed up on the railing and prepared to haul himself back onto the roof.

“Where are you going?” Ian asked.

Mickey shrugged. “Anywhere.”

“But, aren’t you hungry?” Ian was hungry. All the fresh air and chasing the ball and the Frisbee around worked up his appetite.

Mickey shrugged. He was hungry too, but he always was. He had learned to just ignore it.

“Come on,” Ian said. Mickey let his feet land on the little porch and he followed Ian inside.

“Fiona,” Ian said as he walked into the kitchen, “is it okay if Mickey stays for dinner?” Fiona was trying to clear off the table, which was a mess of schoolbooks, leftover lunch dishes and napkins, and toys, and bills. She blew some stray hair off her face and looked at Mickey. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before and his face looked pale despite being out in the fresh air-underneath all that dirt Fi saw, that is. Mickey was looking down at his toes.

“Sure he can,” she said. “If it’s okay with his parents.”

Mickey looked up at her and beamed a smile at her. “I can go home and check,” he said. “Um, is it okay if I bring my little sister Mandy too?”

Lip had just come in from the living room and he looked at Fiona and shook his head. Fiona saw him, but she was thinking about what Mickey had just said.

“Mandy? And you’re Mickey? Are you kids Milkoviches?” she asked. Mickey nodded quickly but looked like he was about to bolt out the backdoor. “Yeah, of course you can bring her,” Fiona said in a gentle voice. Lip practically turned purple.

“I’ll be right back!” Mickey yelled, running out the door and slamming it behind him.

Lip couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Are you nuts? You know what Frank says about feeding strays…”

Ian slammed his hand down on the table, hard. “He’s not a stray! He’s my friend! And he brought us all presents! We didn’t give him nothing, and he shared with us!”

“Lip, we’re just having Elio’s pizza. I just bought a brand new box at Costco, we have plenty. Those Milkovich kids have less than us, we can feed them one meal.”

Mickey was back in less than half an hour.

“Where’s your sister?” Fiona asked, forever used to keeping a headcount when it came to her own younger siblings. Looking out for a couple more wasn’t a big deal to her, but it was to Mickey. No one in his house but him ever kept track of Mandy. (And no one kept track of him.)

“She wanted to get dressed up, she’ll be here soon,” Mickey told Fi.

“Okay, I’ll preheat the oven now, but I won’t start cooking till she gets here.”

Mickey nodded, a bit in awe. At his house the oven was never used, everything came out of the microwave or got eaten cold. Mickey didn’t think anyone in his house knew how the oven part of the stove worked.

“Ian, you and Mickey go wash up, and then you can set the table,” Fiona said. Ian nodded and walked toward the little bathroom that was built off the kitchen. He looked back and saw Mickey hadn’t moved.

“Come on, Mick, we can wash up in here.”

Mickey scowled, but followed Ian into the tiny bathroom. He stood back while Ian got the water running and pumped some generic soft soap into the palm of his hand. “Come on, Mick!” he said again.

Mickey dragged his feet as he walked to stand beside Ian. “What do we gotta do this for?” he grumbled, following Ian’s steps of running his hands under the water and then pumping some soap. “They’re just gonna get all greasy when we eat pizza.”

Ian was looking at Mickey’s reflection as he spoke, and Mickey was looking at Ian’s. Ian shrugged and rinsed off his hands and then dried them, holding out the thin scratchy towel for Mickey when he was done. Mickey snatched it from him and wiped the water off his hands.

“Fiona told us to, we do what Fiona says,” Ian gave Mickey the only explanation he could come up with.

“But she’s not your mother, who tells her what to do?” Mickey asked. “Do you have a mother?”

“Of course, everyone has a mother,” Ian replied.

“I don’t,” Mickey said softly, looking down at the toes of his boots.

“Oh. Well, I mean, we have one, but she’s hardly ever around. She came and brought us Debbie and then left for a while and came back and brought us Carl, but she’s gone again…” Ian didn’t know what else to say, other than a part of him hoped she didn’t come back if it just meant another baby for Fiona to take care of. “Fiona’s around way more than my mom.”

“Is she as good as a mother?” Mickey asked, finally looking Ian in the eye again.

“Better,” Ian assured him.

They returned to the kitchen just in time to hear a soft rapping on the backdoor. Ian opened the door and there stood Mandy, hands on her hips and scowling. She marched past Ian without a word and stomped over to Mickey, glowering at him the whole way.

“’Bout time you got here, what you got?” Mickey said. She huffed and spun around so he could help her take off her cheap pink Hello Kitty knockoff backpack. Mickey got it off her slim shoulders and unzipped the bag, pulling out a two liter bottle of Pepsi. “Who helped you snag this? Iggy?”

Mandy nodded. Mickey put the soda on the counter and then reached into the bag again and pulled out another bottle of the same.

“There you go, Lip,” Fiona said, putting the sheets of pizza squares into the oven and banging the door shut with her hip. “If Ian hadn’t invited Mickey to supper we wouldn’t be having name brand soda.”

Lip hugged his arms around himself and shrugged. He hated to admit it, but having real Pepsi instead of the store brand was pretty cool. He correctly assumed that it was stolen, but he and Ian weren’t above utilizing the old five finger discount themselves. It’s how they got milk at the end of every month when the foodstamp money ran out. Iggy had distracted the shop owner arguing over the price of the Chicago Tribune while Mandy snuck the bottles into her backpack at the nearest convenience store.

Mandy stood in the middle of the Gallagher kitchen while Ian set the table with paper plates and Fiona pulled plastic glasses out of a cabinet and brought them to the table. She snuck a look at Mandy when she came around the counter. Mandy was wearing a long black tank top that hung on her small frame like a mini-dress. Once upon a time it was black, but now it was an ashy charcoal gray. There were some sequins across the front but so many were missing only Fiona could suss out they had once spelled the word bebe because she recognized the logo. Mandy wore garish purple tights on her stick-like legs and a pair of dirty red Keds on her tiny feet.

Lip was checking her out too, and he was struck dumb, for once. Mandy’s eyes were paler and icier than her brother’s, and they started out at the world from behind a curtain of too-long bangs. Her hair was black and silky. She had sharp cheekbones and a pouty mouth and Lip had never seen a more beautiful girl in all his twelve years of life.

Mandy said something to Mickey in her tinkling rapid voice that no one else could catch the words.

“How the fuck should I know?” Mickey groused. “Ask him yourself.” Mandy stomped her foot and spoke even more rapidly, her words spitting out towards Mickey. “Fine,” he huffed and looked at Lip. “She wants to know what the hell you’re looking at.”

Lip had kept his eyes on Mandy even when Mickey was speaking to him. “I think you’re really pretty,” he said. “Mickey said you were getting dressed up, you look nice.”

Mandy broke into a shy smile and brought her hands together in front of her, lacing her fingers together as she stretched her arms out straight and pivoted side to side a little from the waist up.

Ian rolled his eyes-Lip was always going all moony-eyed over every girl that crossed his path. Ian had never felt that way about a girl, but he did find he couldn’t hardly take his eyes off Mickey when he was around.

It started raining while they were eating supper, so they were all stuck inside (Fiona’s orders) after.

“Come on, Mickey, we can go up to my room and play,” Ian said.

“Naw, you guys, let’s go hang out in the living room, watch TV or something,” Lip jumped in, rightly guessing Mandy would go where Mickey went, and wanting her to stay where he could see her too. He had the feeling Ian and Mickey wouldn’t want him around if it was just them-Ian thought he was too bossy and Mickey and Lip just seemed to rub each other the wrong way. All the kids gamboled into the living room like a pack of puppies.

In the living room Mandy just sat quietly and Lip stared at her from afar. Mickey soon grew bored of whatever was on the TV and started flipping through some magazines Fiona had on the table next to the couch. Ian got up and started looking around for something to interest Mickey. He showed him some of the figurines in various melted states they had lying around but other than commenting the one without a face was “cool”, Mickey didn’t seem too impressed. Ian laid out flat on his stomach and swept his arm under the couch and out came more magazines, a few coins and a recorder.

“What’s that?” Mickey said, pointing to the pale wooden instrument.

“It’s my recorder from music last year. The only thing I ever learned to play on it was GAGBAG though,” Ian said.

“Gagbag?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, you know, the notes? Gee ay gee bee ay gee?” Ian played them out, his fingers remembering the placement if he thought about each one for a couple of seconds. “Didn’t you have to play recorder in fourth grade?”

Mickey shook his head no. Unbeknownst to both of them, the school gave him a pass when he showed up for school in the fall of his fourth grade year with a few broken ribs that his father insisted he got falling off a jungle gym. Mickey was kept out of gym and music and was sent to art classes instead, when he showed up at school. He missed a lot of days.

Mandy said something in her soft tinkling voice. Lip leaned forward eagerly, but couldn’t make out the words.

“No one cares that you took music, Skank,” Mickey said, but not harshly. He was too interested in the recorder. “Can I try?” he asked Ian.

Ian nodded and handed it over. Mickey didn’t even wipe the mouthpiece, he just stuck it in his own mouth and started playing. He actually got music to come out of the thing, moving his fingers quickly up and down the holes and keeping his breathing steady by inhaling through his nose and blowing out through his mouth. They all sat there stunned, except for Mandy who knew her brother could play any instrument he ever came across, even if he had never seen it before.

When Mickey got bored with playing, he lowered the recorder and looked around at everyone-except Mandy-staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded.

“That was…so pretty, Mickey,” Ian said.

Mickey narrowed his eyes at Ian.

“No, Mickey, it really was,” Fiona said before Mickey could say anything to Ian. “Look, Carl fell asleep; that was just like a lullaby.” Even Debbie and Lip’s eyes were drooping and they looked happy and peaceful. “Come on, guys, looks like it’s time for bed,” Fiona said.

Mickey looked upset. “No story tonight?”

Fiona looked at him, a little surprised.

“Naw, we have story time every night,” Ian assured him. “Come on, you can sit by me again.”

“And you can sit by me,” Lip told Mandy. Debbie just rolled her eyes and helped Carl rouse himself enough to get off the couch. The kids all followed Mickey and Ian up the stairs.

When Fiona was done reading that night, she told Lip and Ian they should walk Mickey and Mandy home, but Mickey was already halfway out the window.

“That’s okay, we’ll see ourselves home same as always,” Mickey said confidently.

Fiona wanted to protest, and Ian and Lip wanted the Milkoviches to sleep over, but Mickey was all the way out onto the tree branch and Mandy flitted out behind him faster than a hummingbird. They were gone as quick as a wink.

“Aw, man!” Ian groused, kicking some laundry that had been sitting on the floor since that morning, at least.

“Hey, Ian, it’s okay. I’m sure they’ll turn up again soon. I don’t think their dad would let them stay over anyway,” Fiona said. She had never dealt with Terry Milkovich personally, but she had seen Frank with him a time or two and she knew “reasonable” was not a word that would be applied to the man.

Sure enough, the next day Mickey was on the roof of the little back porch again, hoping for a glimpse of red hair. He finally got to see some, but it belonged to Ian’s sister, whatsherface.

“Hey! Strawberry Shortcake! Ian around?”

Debbie took a few steps further away from the house and looked up with a smile.

“Hi, Mickey! Nah, he’s at Little League.”

“What’s that?” Mickey asked.

“Baseball, you know,” Debbie said. But Mickey didn’t know. “Come on, I’ll take you to him. FIONA! I’m going to the baseball field!”

Fiona stuck her head out the backdoor. “No you’re not, Ian doesn’t need you pestering him, besides, you’re too little to walk to the park by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself, I’m taking Mickey.”

Fiona looked around but didn’t see the boy, but then she saw how Debbie was looking up. Fiona walked all the way outside and stood next to Debbie so she could see up on the roof. “Hi, Mickey,” she said. Fiona turned to Debbie. “I’ll come too and we’ll all go over, Lip can stay with Carl.” Fiona wasn’t too sure trusting Mickey to actually keep an eye on five year old Debs was a good idea.

They all walked to the ball park. It was just a practice day, the games wouldn’t start until school ended that week.

Ian was lined up with the rest of his teammates doing warm up exercises, touching his left hand to the toes on his right foot and then right hand to left foot, over and over. He caught sight of Mickey on one of his trips back up and a big smile spread across his freckled face.

The coach yelled to all the kids to split into their practice squads, and Ian picked his glove (originally Lip’s) up off the ground and trotted to second base. Mickey and Debbie and Fiona watched the practice for a few minutes and then Mickey told Fiona, “Okay, I want to play.”

Fiona smiled down at him. “You do? Well, why not.” She walked over to where the coach and a couple of other adults were supervising the practice, Mickey and Deb following.

“Hi, Mr. Gamanski,” Fiona said. “Got a recruit here for you.”

Coach Gamanski turned around and looked over the little group. “Oh, hi, Fiona. Who’s this?”

“Mickey,” Fiona said. “He’d like to play too.”

“Sign ups were weeks ago, sorry,” the coach said.

“Aw, come on. Ian told me at least half a dozen kids have quit already. Surely you’ve got room for Mickey,” Fiona said sweetly enough, but with enough steel in her tone to let the coach know she wasn’t going to let this drop.

“Fiona, Little League rules are really strict…” the coach tried.

“Oh, please. It’s not like you guys get any attention from the League, the team never makes it into any kind of playoffs or anything. Just let the kids who want to play play and keep them off the streets. You can give Mickey the jersey of some kid who already quit-you won’t even have to have ‘Milkovich’ printed on the back.” Fiona was used to having to negotiate.

All the men in the little circle started at the name. One of the other men whispered to the coach, “His dad was probably in jail during sign-ups. Give the kid a shot.”

The coach looked Mickey over. “How old are you?”

“Twelve, how old are you?” Mickey replied, smirking.

“Mickey…” Fiona said in a warning tone.

“Well, no one will accuse us of trying to sneak an older ringer onto the team-if anything they’re gonna guess he’s younger than he is. You ever play baseball before?”

“Nope,” Mickey said.

The coach sighed.

“Grab a bat and helmet and I’ll let you try to hit,” the coach said. Fiona gave him a big bright smile.

One of the other men stood behind Mickey and put his hands on his shoulders trying to help Mickey get into a batting stance and almost wound up being bashed by the bat.

“I’ve been watching the other kids, I know what to do,” Mickey growled as the man put himself into the stance a good four feet away from Mickey and told him to stand that way.

The coach lobbed a slow pitch right over the plate and Mickey hit the hell out of it. He kept pitching, putting more and more speed on the ball and painting the corners of the plate instead of sending them right down the middle. Even balls out of the strike zone weren’t safe from Mickey, he’d manage to get the bat on them and hit them with all he had.

“Not bad!” the coach called as he trotted towards Mickey.

“Kid’s got a lot of aggression to let loose,” the man who tried to help Mickey with his stance commented to the other man standing near Fiona.

“Let’s see how you do fielding, okay?” the coach said.

“What’s that?” Mickey asked.

“Playing defense,” the coach said. “Watch Gallagher for a few minutes, I’ll hit some grounders and fly balls to him.”

Ian was the team’s best infielder and he showed excellent technique, trying his very best to play well in front of Mickey. He caught and fielded all the balls the coach hit to him, and made a point of stepping on the bag just like he had been taught.

“Okay, Mickey, your turn,” the coach said, waving him out to second base. Ian gave him a big smile when he passed him and tossed him his glove while trotting off the field to go stand by Fiona and the other coaches.

The head coach wasn’t using a pitcher, he would just lob the ball up and hit it towards second. Mickey fielded them well and even remembered to step on the base like Ian had done. Just like with hitting, the coach started giving Mickey faster balls to deal with, and one got away from the coach and turned into a line drive headed right for Mickey’s face. Mickey didn’t even flinch, just stuck his glove up at the last minute and fielded it like it was nothing.

The coaches were all impressed and told Mickey he had made the team. Ian couldn’t have been happier. Mr. Gamanski put Mickey at first base and spent the rest of the practice showing him how to keep a runner from stealing and how to tag a runner out while the other coaches worked with the rest of the team on fundamentals. After the practice Gamanski told his other coaches he couldn’t believe how tough and fearless Mickey was. Nothing that came at him fazed him in the least. “The kid just doesn’t flinch, whether it’s a ball or a runner coming right at him.”

“Probably used to shit getting hurled at him every day,” one of the other men commented. “And his dad and brothers probably go right at him.”

As the summer progressed, Ian and Mickey were pretty much inseparable for most of the day. Besides Little League and story time, Mickey (and usually Mandy) would show up at some point during the day and while away the hours with Ian and whichever of his siblings were about.

As much as Ian wished Mickey would sleep over, every time Ian asked Mickey always said he had to go, but he’d be back, and he always was.

“I wish he could at least leave his shadow here,” Ian said sadly to Fiona one night as they watched Mickey go out Ian’s window and into the tree.

“His shadow?” Fiona asked.

Ian shrugged. “It’d be better than nothing.”

On the Fourth of July the neighborhood turned into one big picnic and Ian brought Mickey (with Mandy in tow, of course) home after their triumphant double header at the ballpark. It was almost dusk when they got there and everyone else had eaten, but grills were still going and people were happy to fix the kids cheeseburgers or hot dogs or whatever they wanted. They filled up their plates with potato salad and chips and salsa and sat on Ian’s back steps to eat, talking and laughing with each other and whoever passed by to say hi and hear how the games went.

After they ate, all the Gallagher kids and Mandy and Mickey participated in a water balloon battle that left them all soaked and laughing.

“Ian, lend Mickey some dry clothes to wear and I’ll find something for Mandy,” Fiona said. She had been dying to give Mandy some of her hand-me-downs that she had set aside for Debbie, but the one time she tried to get Mandy to take home a sweater she had put on to listen to Harry Potter she had shook her head furiously and pulled it off and flew out the window faster than anyone had ever seen, which was saying something.

Mickey and Ian got out of their wet baseball uniforms and into shorts and T shirts. Ian let Mickey wear his favorite one, a Bears shirt that was soft and broken in just right. He also leant him a pair of his underwear, blushing furiously as he handed over the tighty whiteys before Mickey went into the bathroom to change.

Fiona brought Mandy out of her room wearing little cut off jean shorts and an off the shoulder top held up by two straps. The shirt was sky blue and had a little ruffle and really brought out the color of Mandy’s eyes. Mickey and Ian were already back in Ian’s room and of course Lip was there too, he had had to change also.

“I’m going to round up Debbie and Carl and get them into some dry clothes too,” Fiona said, already headed for the stairs.

“What should we do now?” Ian asked.

“Wait for the fireworks, I guess,” Lip said. “They usually start shooting them off after the big display gets done down at Navy Pier.”

“You want to go watch those?” Mickey asked.

“Watch what?” Lip said.

“The fireworks at Navy Pier.”

“We can’t go down there, Fiona would kill us. Plus there will be millions of people there,” Lip scoffed.

“We don’t have to go where all the people are, I know the perfect spot to watch them from, and no one else will be there,” Mickey said with confidence.

“Yeah, let’s do it!” Ian was ready to go.

“Fiona’s not gonna let us leave…” Lip began.

“So we don’t tell her,” Mickey said.

“She’ll kill…”

“She’s not gonna find out. She’s out there partying with the neighbors and making eyes at all the high school boys. We’ll be back before she knows we’ve been gone. It’ll be an adventure!” Mickey said.

“Come on, Lip, it’ll be an adventure,” Ian pleaded.

“Is Mandy coming?” Lip asked, pretty much caving already.

“Of course she is, she always goes where Mickey goes,” Ian said, nodding at Mandy, who nodded back.

“All right, but if Fiona kills us, I’m going to kill YOU.”

They gathered some supplies Mickey said they’d need: a flashlight, a couple of beach towels, and snuck out of the house. No one paid the little parade of kids any mind as they headed off down the sidewalk-kids were flitting from house to house all over the neighborhood. They looked like they were playing follow the leader as Ian, Mandy, and finally Lip lined up behind Mickey to go off on this adventure.

Mickey walked them to the L station and Lip started to balk, but Mickey vaulted the turnstile, Mandy went under it, and Ian just walked through-in an effort to get people to leave their cars at home (and to keep drunks off the roads), public transit was free that night. Lip sighed but followed Ian.

They got off the train after a few stops and Mickey quickly led them down and over a few streets. This part of town seemed entirely deserted, there were empty lots and boarded up buildings on both sides of the street Mickey was leading them down. He stopped at the front of one of the buildings, pushed a board aside and motioned the others to go in. Ian had the flashlight, so he led the way, stopping and shining the light on the floor so the others could see as they came in behind him. Mickey came in last and let go of the board and it swung back into place. He took the flashlight from Ian and led them up staircase after staircase till they came out on the roof of the four story building.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” Lip said, looking around.

“It’s fine. Nobody knows about this place, not even my brothers. No one ever comes here,” Mickey said. He had seen all of Chicago from various rooftops and high up in trees by now. It was his own personal domain.

“Ian, spread out those towels and we’ll just wait for the show,” Mickey said. Ian nodded and promptly set to getting the towels he had brought out of his school backpack. He lined the two towels up near but not too close to each other.

“While we’re waiting…” Lip began, kneeling down in front of Ian’s backpack and unzipping the side compartment, “I’ve got these.” He pulled out a box of sparklers and pulled a disposable pink lighter of Fiona’s he had swiped out of his pocket.

“What are those?” Mickey asked, never having seen them before.

“You’ll see,” Lip said, pulling out one of the wire sticks and igniting it. Mandy came right over to see, her eyes huge watching the sparkles flying around the stick. Lip held it out to her. “You wanna hold it?”

She nodded and took it from him carefully.

“Just be careful not to let the sparks land on your clothes or hair,” Lip warned.

“They don’t even hurt when they hit me,” Mandy breathed. Lip gasped, it was the first time he had been able to hear what she was saying when she spoke.

When that sparkler had burned itself out, Lip handed Mandy two more, one for each hand, and lit them up for her. She laughed and began to wave her hands in the air, watching the sparks and the trail the light made as they moved around. She got a little further away from the boys and spun around and around, lifting and dipping the sparklers in the dark night. Mickey and Ian sat down together on one of the towels and watched her, and Lip stood by ready to give her more and light them as they fizzled out.

They had gone through almost the whole box when they heard a loud whistling noise and then suddenly the sky was filled with light. The show was starting from the Pier.

Mickey had found them a great spot, they could see the fireworks right overhead.

Lip sat down on the empty beach towel and broke into a big smile when Mandy plopped down next to him after her sparklers had burnt out.

Ian had his head turned up to the sky and Mickey caught the lights turning Ian’s hair different colors out of the corner of his eye, so he started watching Ian instead. The fireworks changed his skin color too, and Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off the kaleidoscopic effect. Ian’s hair went from green, to blue, to a brilliant orange when a big yellow firework filled up the sky like a sun.

After a bit, Ian felt Mickey’s eyes on him and turned to see if he wanted something. Just then a huge sparkly weeping willow effect work went off and an entire galaxy of stars was reflected in Ian’s big eyes. Mickey felt something burst inside his chest at the sight, something as big as the biggest fireworks in the display.

Just then Ian’s attention was drawn back to the sky as a particularly loud firework exploded and Mickey took a deep breath and finally looked up at the sky too.

They got back to the Back of the Yards in time to help wrangle Carl for Fiona to keep him away from the bottle rockets the neighbors were shooting off, and someone gave Mandy a necklace made out of glow-stick material that Lip showed her how to crack so it would light up. She was fascinated by it and wanted him to wear it so she could see it, when it was on her own slender neck it was out of her eye line.

In the middle of July there was a miserable, humid week full of thunderstorms and tornado threats and a few of the Little League games got rained out. The Gallagher kids didn’t see as much of Mickey and Mandy as they had gotten used to and Mickey missed three nights in a row of The Order of the Phoenix.

Finally there was a muggy day when the rain had stopped long enough for them to get a game in. The field wasn’t in the greatest shape but it had dried up enough that they deemed it playable. Actually, the commissioner of the league had deemed it playable, to be exact. He had taken it upon himself to go around to the fields and tell some teams to call another rainout at the best and highly maintained diamonds, but pretty much all the fields on the South Side were getting a “good enough” from him and he insisted games be played even if kids were slipping all over the place.

He stayed to watch the game at the Yards, since that was the last place on his list to visit. All the kids were logy and dragging in the humidity and no one seemed to have much spirit for the thing.

The visiting team, the Pirates, was bratty and rude, they had never played on such a shitty field before and they weren’t keeping their displeasure to themselves. It seemed like the umpires started bending over backwards to make them happier-the home team’s strike zone shrunk down to nothing and batters were being called out on three pitches to speed up the bottom halves of the innings. The home team kids were getting pretty fed up with the whole business.

In the top of the fifth, with a runner on first the next batter hit a grounder right to the short stop who flipped the ball to Ian to get the forced out at second and then Ian cleanly threw the ball right into Mickey’s glove to turn the double play. The batter was still slogging his way up the first baseline and Mickey’s foot was on the bag, but he still gently swiped the back of his glove on the runner when he finally got to the base to be sure the ump saw that tag long before the Pirate got to the base.

Mickey heard a voice behind him.

“Safe!” the umpire shouted, signaling with his arms as well. Even the runner, who hadn’t even bothered to put his foot on the base, looked at him in shock.

“The fuck did you just say?” Mickey yelled.

“Safe,” the umpire repeated, narrowing his eyes at Mickey.

Mickey had had it, and started yelling every swear word he knew at the ump, and there were quite a few that he knew.

Coach Gamanski was slow getting over to the base from the dugout, he knew the ump would never change the call and he wanted Mickey to give him a verbal lashing because he had earned it. Unfortunately the umpire made the mistake of putting a hand on Mickey’s shoulder and Gamanski thought for sure Mickey was going to sock him.

But Mickey surprised them all.

“My foot was on the fucking bag, it’s still on the fucking bag, the kid never stepped on the base,” Mickey insisted, his glare going from the hand on his shoulder to the umpire’s eyes.

“The bag’s all covered in mud, you just didn’t see him step on it, but I did. The runner is safe,” the idiot umpire insisted.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey sneered. “Well, maybe I should clean that off for you then.” And with that, he unsnapped his uniform pants and proceeded to piss on the base. Most of the team had come in from their positions on the field to stand around Ian at second base to watch and hear the altercation better and they all sent up a cheer when they saw what Mickey was doing.

Commissioner Hook scrambled down off the metal bleachers and was yelling for Mickey’s immediate expulsion from the league.

“Aw, fuck you too,” Mickey said, as Gamanski pulled him back towards the dugout.

The game was forfeited to the Pirates and everyone scattered to get home before the next rain storm started. The commissioner was trying to lecture Mickey, but Mickey just kept bouncing the end of an aluminum bat on the concrete floor of the dugout, drowning him out. Commissioner Hook turned to the coach.

“I want to speak to this young man’s parents.”

Coach Gamanski sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “That might prove difficult…”

“My sister’s picking us up today, Coach,” Ian said, his big puppy eyes looking as honest as the day is long.

“There you have it,” the coach said to the commissioner. “No point in waiting around here.”

“Well, just so you all understand, he’s banned from the league and can’t play anymore,” Commissioner Hook said in his most officious voice.

“Like I give a shit,” Mickey said, not looking at Ian.

Hook thought about saying something more, but couldn’t figure out a comeback, so he finally just walked away.

“Mickey, I’m really sorry. You were an asset to the team and this wasn’t fair. That runner was out by a mile,” the coach said. Mickey just shrugged. “You boys going to be okay here? I can wait with you till Fiona shows up.”

“We’ll be fine, Coach,” Ian said when it was clear Mickey wasn’t going to say anything.

After the coach left, Ian turned to Mickey. “Fiona’s not really picking us up,” Ian said.

Mickey snorted, “Figured. You can’t lie for shit, usually, but you almost had me fooled.” Mickey broke into a big smile when Ian blushed at that bit of praise, coming from Mickey.

“Hey, Ryan said his brother bought a porno magazine and the whole team is going over to see it after supper, you wanna go?” Ian said, trying to think of something for Mickey to look forward to.

“Naw,” Mickey said, and spat on the floor of the dugout.

“Oh,” Ian said in a small voice, disappointed that he had failed to come up with something to interest Mickey.

“Do you want to see it?” Mickey asked in a reluctant but curious tone.

Ian wrinkled his nose. “Not really, now that I think about it,” he said.

“You ever seen any porno?” Mickey asked, looking straight ahead as the rain finally started pouring down outside the dugout.

“No.” Ian replied simply.

“My brothers have it all over the place, and talk about naked women all the time, but,” Mickey shrugged, “it’s just not interesting.”

“Yeah. Fiona and Lip say I’ll get it when I grow up, but I don’t think girls are interesting now.”

“That’s why I’m not going to grow up,” said Mickey.

“You’re not?” Ian asked, looking at him with his head tilted in puzzlement.

“Yeah. Growing up means having to marry a chick and have babies and shit, and I’m not going to do that.” Mickey seemed adamant. Ian believed him.

Mickey stopped going to the games after that day, and Ian’s enthusiasm and enjoyment for being on the team waned considerably, but he was nothing if not disciplined and he still went to practices and games and Mickey always managed to find him after and they’d hang out at Ian’s house.

One day in August Ian and Mickey were hanging out in Ian’s room, trying to think of something to do. Mickey decided he’d think better if he hung upside down off the top bunk of Lip and Carl’s bunk beds, so he did so. A piece of paper went fluttering to the ground from one of his hoodie pockets as flipped his top half over the edge of the bunk.

“What’s this,” Ian said, reaching from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor to pick it up.

“Ah, just some mail I didn’t want my dad to see.”

Ian glanced at the postcard. “It says it’s time for your check-up,” Ian said, his eyes darting over the short message. “Hey! Your birthday’s coming up! Next week!”

“So?” Mickey scoffed.

“So? That’s cool! You’re going to be a teenager!” Mickey didn’t reply, he wouldn’t even look at Ian from his upside down position.

“Why didn’t you want your dad seeing this?” Ian said, once he realized Mickey wasn’t going to talk about his milestone birthday.

“He just gets pissed when he has to spend money,” Mickey said quietly.

“Mickey, it’s the free clinic, they don’t charge us,” Ian said.

“Ah, they always come up with some shit they want my old man to pay for-vitamins or whatever.” Mickey really didn’t want to talk about this. His old man hated anyone shining a light on how he was raising his kids. They only went to the clinic if they were badly hurt, so sadly the clinic had a file on each of the Milkovich kids anyway. Mickey almost didn’t get to play baseball because the league required a physical but in the end the coach had cut all sorts of corners to avoid getting Terry involved with putting Mickey on the team. Mickey gave him a forged permission slip and a verbal promise to get a physical and Gamanski let it slide.

On Mickey’s birthday, the Gallaghers surprised him with a cake. Mickey’s eyes got huge when Fiona brought it to the kitchen table after a mac and cheese supper. Lip let out a yell when he saw the four sparklers set into the corners of the cake, he had hidden those away hoping to get Mandy alone sometime to let her have them, but of course all summer she was stuck to Mickey’s side whenever they came over, and she never came to the house without her brother. Carl had found Lip’s secret stash and gave them to Fiona to put on the cake.

Mickey had never had a birthday cake before. It was just from a ninety-nine cent mix, strawberry flavored with a can of vanilla frosting on top. Debbie had written on the cake with a tube of blue frosting. She had run out of room and the letters were hard to read, but it didn’t matter. Mickey was honored anyway.

They all sang Happy Birthday to Mickey (except for Mandy, since she hadn’t ever participated in a birthday celebration either), and then Fiona said, “You won’t be able to blow out the sparklers, but quick-make a wish before they burn out.” Mickey didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, plus he was still pretty shaken up from being the focus of attention from the song. He looked at Ian with a very lost look in his eye.

“You get to make a wish, for your birthday, whatever you want,” Ian said. Mickey thought for a couple of seconds and was about to speak when Ian placed his hand over Mickey’s mouth. “But don’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true!”

One of Mickey’s eyebrows shot up in a “come the fuck on” gesture, but he nodded his head at Ian to let him know he understood.

“Close your eyes and make the wish,” Ian breathed, nervously watching the sparklers burn down. Mickey closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and raised both eyebrows at Ian. Ian gently removed his hand and smiled as the last sparkler sputtered out.

“After it comes true, you can tell what it was, but not before, or it won’t. Understand?” Ian said. Mickey nodded again and shrugged his shoulders. Who knew birthdays had so many rules?

Everyone was still downstairs when Ian and Mickey went up to get ready to hear Fiona read that night. They were watching the end of a movie that Mickey was bored with so he and Ian took off to wait.

“Mickey,” Ian began shyly, “since it’s your birthday, can I give you something?”

Mickey didn’t see what one had to do with the other, but he shrugged and said, “Sure.”

“Um, could I…would it be all right…couldIgiveyouakiss?” Ian blurted.

Mickey tilted his head and gave Ian a puzzled look. “Uh, sure?” he said again.

Ian stepped closer by a few steps and stopped right in front of Mickey. Mickey put out his hand, palm up, like he expected Ian to put something in it. Ian burst out laughing.

“Mickey, _surely you know what a kiss is_.”

“Of course I do,” Mickey lied, feathers definitely ruffled. “People are giving me kisses all the time.”

“Really?” Ian said in an unbelieving tone. He was still smiling, which just made Mickey madder.

“You know what, Gallagher? I don’t want a stupid kiss from you anyway. Tell Mandy I’ll see her at home.” And with that, he flew to the window and had the screen up and was out in the tree before Ian could call to him to wait.

When the rest of the family came up, they found Ian sitting disconsolately on his bed. When Mandy heard Mickey had left, she too went right out the window. Lip climbed up to his bunk and threw himself onto the mattress and punched his pillow. Fiona looked around and said, “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night. Why don’t we skip Harry Potter and just get to bed.”

Ian was glad, since that meant Mickey wouldn’t miss any of the story. Then he got sad again, hoping that Mickey would forgive him for laughing at him.

“I wonder what Mickey wished for,” Debbie said, before Fiona could herd her out of the room.

“I bet he wished for a bb gun, or a really cool knife,” Carl said. Ian didn’t bother telling him Mickey could get his hands on a gun whenever he wanted to in the Milkovich house, or that he already had a butterfly knife that he had shown Ian-he knew Fiona wouldn’t like it and that Carl wouldn’t stop pestering Mickey to let him see it if he knew about it.

“My guess is he wished for some titty magazines,” Lip said. Ian scoffed but didn’t bother to correct him either.

“I hope he wished for some new clothes,” Debbie said. Ian kept quiet.

Fiona went around to tell each kid goodnight after they had brushed their teeth and gotten into their pajamas. Lip and Carl were already asleep since Debs kept her talking about the cake and how well the party went before Fi could get to the boys’ room. After checking on the bunkmates she crossed the room to Ian’s bed where she saw he was still awake and so she tucked the sheet around him. Ian always had to be covered to fall asleep and then on hot nights he’d wind up kicking the sheet off in his sleep. She kissed Ian on his forehead and was just about to leave when he said, so quietly to be sure that Lip wouldn’t hear even though he was already asleep, “I think Mickey wished for a mother.”

Fiona’s big brown eyes got even bigger. “I bet you’re right, Sweet Face,” she whispered.

But they were both wrong. Mickey had wished to be near Ian always and forever.

Mickey and Mandy showed up the next night to hear Fiona read, and Mickey took his spot next to Ian without saying anything, so Ian figured he was forgiven for laughing at Mickey. He still felt bad about it, though.

The day after that, Fiona needed to go grocery shopping and she asked Ian to come with her to help carry the bags home. Lip and the younger kids were going over to a neighbor’s house so Lip could mow her grass and trim the hedges. She was a nice older lady who had one of the biggest houses in the Yards a few blocks over. She liked hiring Lip to do her landscaping because he was careful about not cutting too much and did a thorough job cleaning up. She was happy to let him bring his younger siblings along to run through her sprinklers while Lip worked. Her children had long grown up and moved away and she missed the sound of kids laughing and squealing coming in through the windows.

All the people in the neighborhood called her Mrs. Nana since she was like a grandma to everyone. She knew most people in the neighborhood didn’t have much and she was willing to share whatever she could.

Lip would normally want Ian along too because he could put him to work as his assistant. Ian would still get to run through the sprinklers for a bit at the end, so he didn’t mind being Lip’s pack mule, but going to the grocery store with its air conditioning was almost as good. Ian knew he and Fiona would get hot and sweaty on the walk home though.

At the store, Fiona was particularly harried. The weather forecast had called for storms moving in in the late afternoon, but it appeared that prediction was going to be off by a couple hours as she and Ian walked to the store and the sky got grayer and grayer. She rushed through the store as quickly as she could, crossing items off her list as she threw them into the cart Ian was pushing for her. She was glad she didn’t have to take Carl and Debbie on this shopping trip, they really slowed her down.

Once she had everything on her list, she made a beeline for the checkouts. The store always had the registers in the middle staffed, and usually the ones on either side were closed unless it was a holiday or weekend. Normally Fiona would have to skirt around the middle aisle after hitting the dairy case last (so the milk would stay as cold as possible) because that was the candy aisle. But since Debs and Carl weren’t there, she walked right down it to get to the checkouts as quickly as possible so they wouldn’t waste any time with those rain clouds looking heavier than ever.

She was almost to the end of the aisle when she realized she couldn’t hear the shopping cart rolling along behind her anymore. She stopped and looked back to see Ian standing in front of one of the shelves holding something in his hands. She walked back.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked her little brother.

Ian looked up from the bag of candy he was holding. “Can I get this, Fiona? Please?”

She took the bag from him. Hershey Kisses, wrapped in silver foil. She glanced at the price tag. She was super careful with their grocery money, the food stamp money they were entitled to didn’t come close to feeding a family of growing kids and she had to supplement the amount on the EBT card every month with money they earned doing odd jobs, and her waitressing job that she had dropped out of school for.

She glanced up from the bag to meet Ian’s eyes. She couldn’t tell him no. Ian never asked for anything and beyond that, he was the one that never complained about getting the short end of the stick when things like the stupid bun to hot dog ratio never worked out. Ian was inevitably the kid who got stuck eating his dog wrapped in a limp piece of bread, plus Ian was inevitably the kid that got the heels of the bread when the loaf was eaten up by the other kids. (That Fiona herself often went without any buns or bread at all didn’t even occur to her. She was the oldest and it had always been her job to take care of the younger ones.)

Fiona did some quick calculating in her head. If she put back the ketchup and stretched what was left in the bottle at home till next month by adding water they should be okay. She dug the ketchup out of the car t and stuck it on the nearest shelf.

“Sure, Ian-but hide them from the rest of the kids unless you want them to gobble them all up the minute you open the bag,” Fiona said. “And, don’t feel like you have to share-those can be all for you.” Ian had never shown signs of having a sweet tooth before, but Fiona figured he more than deserved his own bag of candy once in his childhood.

Little League had been over since the end of July and every day Mickey turned up to see Ian sooner or later since his birthday, usually with Mandy but sometimes without. Ian figured he’d wait till a time when Mickey was alone before he tried to give him one of the Hershey Kisses. He somehow didn’t want Mandy around when he tried to make up to Mickey for laughing at him.  

Things didn’t work out quite that way, but one day all the kids were playing and Mandy got deeply involved with a game all the kids made up pretending they were working in an office. Mandy and Debbie set up tray tables in front of a couple of kitchen chairs and those were their desks where they ran their company and they kept getting paperwork from the other kids, who had pretend offices set up in the front entryway and living room. Mickey got bored with it before anyone else and he motioned to Ian that they should go upstairs.

But there wasn’t really anything to do in Ian’s room either, so Mickey said they should go outside and run around and see what there was to see going on in the neighborhood. Ian agreed and Mickey pushed up the screen and went out the window. Ian was just about to follow when he realized he and Mickey would be alone. He ran to the hall closet and, standing on tippy toes, reached to the back of the highest shelf he could reach and unearthed the bag of Kisses from under some towels. He ripped open the bag and put a small handful of the candies into the front pocket of his plaid shirt and ran back to his room. He was more than halfway out with one foot just resting down on the tree branch when Lip’s voice startled him from behind.

“Hey! Where are you going? Mandy’s looking for Mickey.”

Ian was caught off balance and his foot slipped off the branch and his momentum tipped his weight so his whole body went out instead of in and he crashed to the ground. Mickey was still in the tree, a few branches down from the branch that went to Ian’s window. He hadn’t realized Ian wasn’t right behind him and he reached his hand out helplessly and tried to catch onto Ian as he fell, but it happened too quick and he was too far away. He saw Ian fall to the ground with a thud. From where Mickey was, it looked like Ian had landed directly on his head. His eyes were wide with fear. Ian wasn’t moving.

Lip was yelling for Fiona inside the house. “FI! Ian fell out of the tree! He’s not moving!”

Mickey scrambled down the tree when he could finally feel his legs and arms again, but Fiona came flying out of the house before he got down on the ground, Lip right behind her. Fiona was on the cordless phone talking to 911.

“It’s my little brother-he fell-I don’t know, the second story? How high up is that? Hurry, please hurry! No, he’s not moving, he’s not talking…” Fiona sounded absolutely frantic. She was crying and stopped trying to choke out words.

When Mickey’s feet hit the ground he took off running and he didn’t look back.

Lip watched him run away, a glare in his eyes.

That night when Fiona and Lip and Debbie and Carl brought Ian home from the emergency room, Mandy was sitting on their front steps waiting for them. It had been a long day for all of them, and everyone was exhausted.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Fiona said when Ian paused to try to say something to Mandy. He was full of painkillers and pretty out of it. His left arm was in a sling to prevent it from moving too much and jarring his broken collarbone. He wanted to ask Mandy where Mickey was, but his mouth didn’t seem to be working. Fiona helped Ian up the stairs into the house, being careful to make a slow go of it so he wouldn’t jostle his collarbone too much. Inside the house, they started to repeat the same process up to Ian’s room, but Ian stopped halfway up to listen to Mandy.

She was shouting at Lip. Loud and clear.

“You jerk! You told our dad we were here and that Ian got hurt because of Mickey!” she screamed, her face beet red. She stomped her foot when Lip didn’t say anything.

“He beat Mickey up!” she yelled. “He told him that’s what he got for acting like he was a kid and still playing with fa…with other boys and that he can never come over here again! He said if he ever got word that Mickey so much as took a step towards North Wallace he’d kill him for sure! And he meant it, Lip!”

“You told their dad?”

Lip, who had been looking down at his shoes, snapped his head up to look at his brother halfway up the stairs.

“Lip, why, when?” said Fiona.

“When the doctor came out and told us it was a broken collarbone. Mickey ran off like a coward when you fell, Ian, and I wanted someone to know he was responsible for you getting hurt.”

“It was an accident!” Fiona and Ian both spoke the same words at the same time.

“Lip, it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Ian said.

“You wouldn’t have been climbing out that window if it hadn’t been for Mickey. You would’ve used the door, same as all us normal people,” Lip said, still feeling tremendous guilt over the fact that he had distracted Ian when he was halfway out the window.

“Well, don’t worry about it,” Mandy seethed. “Us ‘not normal’ people will never come through your windows or doors again.” She stomped out and slammed the front door behind her.

Lip stood stock still, so did Debbie and Carl.

“Come on, Ian, let’s get you into bed,” Fiona said gently. She could feel Ian trembling where she had her arm around him and knew he was starting to cry.

She got him into bed and his tears started flowing.

“Does your collarbone hurt?”

“No…yes, but that’s not why I’m crying,” Ian said.

“I know sweetie.”

“I’m never going to see Mickey again!” Ian’s voice broke and his tears fell even harder. Fiona wiped at them with the corner of the sheet.

“Shhh, just because he can’t come here doesn’t mean you won’t see him. School’s starting in a couple of weeks and you’ll see him there,” Fiona reassured him.

But it wasn’t meant to be. Although both Mickey and Lip had gotten into a talented and gifted program that could send them to the same school. Lip had qualified to go to a science and math magnet middle school across town, and younger siblings got to go there as well in an effort to make things easier for families so they didn’t have to run to different schools for different events. Mickey had scored the highest score on the math portion in the city-higher than Lip even, they had compared their results when they got their letters in mid-summer, but when Terry heard about it he refused to let Mickey go.

“Why should the little fucker take a bus across town for a couple of years when he’s going to drop out the day he turns sixteen anyway?” Terry had roared at the district coordinator when she called to start the enrollment process. Terry hadn’t told Mickey or Mandy they wouldn’t be attending the new school until the first day of school, so they didn’t have a way to let the Gallaghers know.

The boys were off down different paths now.

 


	2. Epilogue: Mickey Man

Nearly ten years had gone by and one chilly February night Ian was riding a train, on his way home to meet up with his brother to celebrate his birthday.

For nearly one month each year, Lip and Ian were the same age due to being born eleven months apart. Most of the time that month would pass unnoticed by either of them, but this year Lip insisted on commemorating the occasion as Ian would be turning twenty-one and joining Lip in the category “Legal Adult”.

Ian stared unseeing out the window as the train rushed him into the city from his college campus. It was only at Lip’s insistence that he was bothering to celebrate his birthday at all. In a lot of ways he felt like he’d been a full on adult since he was fourteen. That was the year a high school senior on the football team, Roger Spikey, took a special interest in Ian for a little while and introduced him to sex, and then after he moved away, Ian got his first job and took up with the married owner of the store he was working at after school.

After that dalliance ended, Ian dated a series of older and older men-well, “dated” was hardly the word for it, but it sufficed. When Ian was seventeen he finally decided to stop messing around with older and usually closeted and married older men and got into a relationship with a man still significantly older than him, but at least he hadn’t hit thirty yet. He turned out to be very controlling and condescending, always warning Ian he’d wind up as a janitor if he didn’t turn his life around, so Ian actually buckled down for his junior year of high school and got himself accepted at Northwestern during his senior year. Once he went away to college, the distance proved far enough to cool the relationship. Also Ian began to question why a man in his late twenties was dating a teen to begin with. The freedom Ian felt at being far away from the fireman’s nitpicking and superior attitude felt like being released from a prison sentence.

At the beginning of his sophomore year in college, finally for the first time in his life Ian started seeing someone younger than him. The trouble there was, when they met, Ian was just looking to be friends with the dude. But they weren’t on the same page and the other guy told Ian in no uncertain terms he already had plenty of friends and kept pushing for a sexual relationship. Ian eventually yielded, and what followed was months of drama and yet another person always expecting Ian to be something he wasn’t, as if who he was just wasn’t good enough. Ian finally broke off with him in the summer, and decided he’d rehab his sex life and that he’d hold out for love before he got involved with anyone else.    

And speaking of rehab, Ian thought to himself with a sigh. Lip had been checked into a program after he almost died of alcohol poisoning at Thanksgiving. He had been spiraling out of control for years, and finally something had to be done. Lip did the twenty-eight days and had been trying to follow the AA steps since, but it hadn’t been easy. He white-knuckled it through Christmas and New Year’s. He also pretty much white-knuckled through January. February was getting off to a better start for him, he finally seemed to be accepting the “one day at a time” mindset.

Ian still wasn’t sure it was a good idea for Lip to take him out for a drink, but Lip insisted that they should be together when Ian bought his first legal drink in his life. Ian didn’t get what the big deal was, they were just going to The Alibi and they had been drinking in there since they were in their early teens. It really seemed to mean a lot to Lip, though, and Lip wasn’t going to drink. He just wanted to mark the day with his closest in age sibling without the whole family being there like they would be when they had Ian’s birthday party at the house that weekend.

Ian got to The Alibi on time and was surprised that Lip was already there. Their whole lives Ian had been the punctual one and Lip was always running late. Lip was nursing a Coke and when Kev heard it was Ian’s birthday he told him to put his money away and poured him a shot of bourbon from the top shelf. Ian downed it quickly, not wanting to tempt Lip in any way, he saw the look of longing when Kev brought the bottle over to the bar. Ian ordered a Coke when he placed the shot glass down on the bar and Kev scooped the small glass away and got Ian the Coke.

Ian and Lip talked for a bit, but Ian could tell he was anxious to get out of the bar. This probably hadn’t been one of Lip’s brightest ideas.

“If you need to get going, I’m good,” Ian told him. “I’m meeting some friends from school downtown to watch the Bulls game.”

“Yeah? Going to a sports bar?” Lip asked.

Ian was a little startled, then shrugged. Where else would he be watching a game if not at home or his dorm? “Um, yeah,” he answered Lip. “I would’ve asked you along but you don’t really know any of the guys…”

“And I shouldn’t be in a bar,” Lip stated matter-of-factly. “I’m gonna go hit a meeting, it’s cool, Ian.”

“Lip, I didn’t mean…”

“I know, Ian. It’s not you, it’s definitely me. This was my idea and I’m glad to see you, but I should’ve thought it through a little better. I should’ve listened when you were reluctant to come here-too many ghosts of beverages past. I’ll be okay. I’ll go to a meeting and if that’s not enough I’ll call my sponsor. I’ll see ya this weekend. Happy birthday, little brother.” They both stood up next to the bar, and Lip smirked as he had to look up a few inches to meet his “little” brother’s eyes. They hugged and then Lip turned to grab his coat off the stool next to him. He put a twenty down on the bar and thanked Kev and headed out.

“Ian, man, happy birthday,” Kev said, reaching over the bar to shake Ian’s hand. “We’ll see you Saturday for your party.”

Ian said goodbye and bundled up to go catch yet another train to get downtown.

He walked out of the bar and looked up. The sky was unusually clear and the stars were stark and bright.

“ _Second star to the right and straight on till morning_ ” popped into Ian’s head out of nowhere as he walked down the sidewalk, his eyes looking up at the stars. Inevitably, he walked right into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, fuckhead!”

Ian hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, but he’d know those eyes that shone like they were made from starlight anywhere, from the remotest island in the world to a spot as unexpected as a Chicago sidewalk on a cold winter night.

When Mickey realized exactly who it was staring at him dumbfounded, he broke into a big smile.

“Ian! Where are you going?” he asked.

“Where are you going?” Ian said, all breathless.

“To work.”

Ian was trying to wrap his head around all the thoughts that were flying around in it. Here was Mickey, grown up, with a job apparently, but his face looked as youthful as the day they met, only cleaner. Ian grinned to himself at that thought.

“Wow, did you grow,” Mickey said, since Ian wasn’t saying anything. “Wasn’t I taller than you?”

Ian nodded happily. Mickey had been at least three inches taller than Ian when they were kids, but Ian had had a couple of significant growth spurts in his teens.

“You look the same,” Ian said.

“Hey, I got a little taller,” Mickey said, straightening up as much as he could. “Not much, but a bit. Also? I shower now.”

Ian burst out laughing. Mickey’s eyes sparkled. He’d missed that laugh. It was deeper now, but otherwise just the same as he remembered.

A drunk staggered past them, almost veering into them. “Yer blockin’ the sidewalk,” he muttered.

“Wasn’t that your dad?” Mickey asked.

“Maybe, who cares?” Ian said, never taking his eyes off Mickey. “Whoever it was, maybe he had a point about getting off the sidewalk though.”

“Aw, shit!” Mickey said, touching back down to reality. “I’ve got to get to work. You busy? You wanna come?”

“To work? With you?” Ian said.

“Yeah, I work at a club, The Tiger Lily, downtown.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting some friends for my birthday…” Ian said, remembering. He had honestly completely forgotten the minute he saw Mickey.

“It’s your birthday?” Mickey said, another big smile taking over his face. “Happy birthday, man!”

Ian blushed and looked down at his shoes. “’S no big deal.”

Mickey did the math in his head, subtracting from his age. “Hey! You turning twenty one?” Ian nodded. “Wow, all grown up,” Mickey sighed.

“I don’t know about that,” Ian said. “Seems like I missed out on a lot and I’m trying to slow things up a bit now. You know, my friends are just at some sports bar to watch the Bulls game, and they all have each other. They’re not going to care if I bail. Can I come to your club with you?” Ian had never heard of it, and had already forgotten the name.

Once again Mickey’s face lit up with a smile. Five minutes with Ian and he had already smiled more than he could ever remember.

“Of course! Come on.”

They caught a train and Mickey filled Ian in about his job. Ian had noticed Mickey was carrying a small black case and wondered if it had anything to do with his work. Turned out, it did.

“A couple years ago I decided I wanted some legit work, and I wandered into a club downtown that had a “Help Wanted’ sign in the window. They were just starting out and needed a bar back and they gave me a shot. It helped that I was willing to act as an extra bouncer when needed,” Mickey added, sticking the tip of his tongue in the corner of his mouth for a second.

“Tough guy,” Ian smiled.

“You know it. Luckily the place caught on and business was good from the get go. They have live entertainment almost every night-they book bands now, but at the start it was mainly the house band playing every night and one night their clarinet player didn’t show up. I didn’t read a note of music, but they played the same songs night in and night out and I was pretty sure I could fake it for one night. They let me sit in and I’ve been playing with them ever since.”

They got to the club and Mickey brought Ian backstage to meet the guys in the band and then introduced him around to the bartenders and wait staff and the club manager, telling all and sundry that Ian was his “childhood friend”. The manager insisted that Ian sit with him at a VIP table during Mickey’s set. The manager wanted to treat Ian to drinks, but Ian stuck to Cokes, he wanted to stay awake and alert. It was already nine o’clock by the time Mickey’s set was starting, and Ian hoped they’d have time to talk when Mickey’s work was done.

When the band was all set to go, Mickey leaned into the microphone and said, “Thanks for being here, everyone. We’re The Lost Boys and we’re here to play.”

Mickey was a great musician. The first number they did was a truncated version of Rhapsody In Blue, a song that starts on a long note from the clarinet. The hairs on Ian’s arms stood up as he watched Mickey coax out the clear notes and somehow the small combo of musicians made their few instruments stand in for an orchestra. The song was clearly a crowd favorite, and when it was over the manager leaned over to Ian to speak directly into his ear and said, “Mickey did that arrangement. It never fails to bring down the house. We have so many repeat customers because of him.” Ian was clapping loudly and nodded at the praise for his old friend.

The time flew by. Before Ian knew it, it was after eleven o’clock and Mickey was addressing the audience. He had done that throughout the bands’ set, introducing numbers and the band members and joking with the audience. Ian remembered how Mickey had never been afraid to talk to anyone as a boy. He just had a way with people. They leaned forward when he spoke and were delighted by what he had to say.

“Okay, folks, it’s getting to be about that time,” Mickey said into the microphone. “But you know no set would be complete without us playing our signature tune, Gag Bag.” The regulars in the crowd roared. “As a matter of fact, the man who inspired me to write that song is in our audience tonight. Ian Gallagher, please stand up and take a bow.”

Ian’s face turned as red as his hair. He was shaking his head, but the manager pushed him to stand up. Ian figured he was probably better off just getting it over with, so he popped out of his chair, gave a little half wave, and sat back down again.

Mickey brought his clarinet up to his lips, raised his eyebrows at Ian with a twinkle in his eye, and started playing the song. It started off slow and sensuous and built into a pounding cacophony with a dirty R&B beat. Ian’s face was heating up again for another reason, and he began to wonder A: how old Mickey was when he wrote it, and B: what exactly he was thinking while he did. Then the song got louder and hotter and Ian just let himself get lost in it and stopped thinking so hard.

The band left the stage to thunderous applause, and the club manager pulled Ian’s arm since Ian was standing and cheering with everyone else. “Come on!” the manager shouted to him. “I’ll bring you to Mickey.”

They went backstage. The band didn’t have a dressing room per se, but they did have an area of their own with a small bathroom. Mickey was in there brushing his teeth with the door open. He caught sight of Ian and nodded to the club manager who left Ian once he saw Mickey knew he was there.

Mickey finished up rinsing out his mouth and hurried over to Ian. “Sorry, I was just on my way out to find you as soon as I cleaned up a little. Having that reed in my mouth for a couple of hours makes me need to brush.”

“You were…incredible, Mickey,” Ian gushed. “You can really play!”

Mickey blushed and looked down. “Aw, thanks,” he muttered. “Can you stick around? We play a shorter set at midnight. It’s more mellow and the crowd’s smaller.”

“I’d love to,” Ian replied.

Mickey brought Ian back into the main part of the club and they socialized with the band and some of the club goers that came up to their tables to talk to the band members. Mickey was absolutely their unofficial leader and the group had an easy going friendly vibe. Lots of people wanted to buy them rounds of drinks and Mickey accepted one beer then switched to Cokes. “I don’t ever want to get sloppy when I’m playing,” he explained to Ian. Mickey also insisted on buying Ian a beer when he had his, and would’ve kept buying him drinks when he said he’d have Cokes when Mickey did, but Ian insisted on buying every other round, so it all evened out.

When the band was about to go back on, the manager came and found Ian and asked him to sit at his table again. Ian tried to say he’d be fine on his own, but the other man insisted. “I’ll be sitting at my table anyway, I always watch the band every chance I get. Please join me.” So, Ian did.

The second set was much more mellow. The songs were softer and quieter. Some were original, written by one or more of the band members, some were classics. Between songs the manager explained they had to close at two AM and they’d learned along the way that the people were easier to corral out of the club if the music was soothing towards the end of the night.

“Like a lullaby,” Ian said, remembering the evening Mickey played his recorder.

After the set was done, Ian stayed at the manager’s table talking. Mickey came out after a few minutes. He had brushed his teeth again and had a bottled water. He joined Ian and the club manager for a bit, but then the manager excused himself to get down to the business of closing up for the night. There were a couple of bartenders cleaning up behind the bar, and a kid that Ian had noticed bussing tables all night was wiping down all the tables and putting the chairs up on them when he was done, but other than that, Mickey and Ian were pretty much alone up on a little riser where the VIP tables were off to the side of the stage.

Mickey was drinking his water so Ian took a minute to look at him closely. He was wearing a forest green button down shirt and black fitted jeans. His eyes still had the sparkle Ian could remember being there when Mickey was a boy. His face was still really boyish too, but maybe slightly thinner and more angular than he had been the last time Ian saw him.

Mickey caught Ian looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and that eye crinkled and Mickey pulled the bottle away from his lips with a smile.

“You’re looking good, Ian,” Mickey said, staring at him more boldly than Ian had dared. Ian’s curls were cut super short but Mickey noticed how his hair still was made up of little waves. The color was a bit darker and richer than he remembered, but Mickey thought to himself he actually liked it even more now. Ian’s face was less freckled, and had thinned out some and had he always had that sharply defined jawline? But Mickey also noticed he still had a roundness and softness to his cheeks and that in certain lights he looked younger than his twenty one years. Especially when his eyes got big, like they were now.

Ian blushed at Mickey’s compliment and mumbled a sincere, “You too.” Then, trying to think up something to say since he was suddenly shy at being with only Mickey he asked, “What’s Mandy up to these days?”

Mickey grinned. “She runs a fairy school.”

“A what?”

“Some sort of dance thing? She was working at a dancing ‘academy’ and someone noticed that she did a bang up job training the little kids to be good sugarplum fairies for the winter production of The Nutcracker, so this woman who runs some sort of big deal performing arts school hired her to exclusively train dancers to be sugarplum fairies. They call it Fairy School. I guess they’ve had a couple of Mandy’s students get hired by New York productions of the ballet and there’s talk of her even getting to go to Russia to work with a ballet company there.” Mickey’s pride in Mandy’s accomplishments was easy to see.

“That’s awesome, Mickey.”

“How are all your brothers and sisters? Good?” Mickey asked.

“For the most part, yeah,” Ian answered. “Um, my mom did wind up coming back and giving us another brother to take care of-Liam. He’s the youngest now.”

“Oh yeah? Who does he look like? You and your little sister? Or the others?”

“Well, none of us, really,” Ian said. “You’d be surprised.”

Mickey just shrugged. “Did your mom stick around that time?”

“Nope.”

Mickey didn’t push, but he did give Ian a sympathetic look. They were quiet again for a few moments. Mickey sipped at his water and Ian played with the straw in his glass. Suddenly Mickey put his bottle down on the table and reached over and gently squeezed Ian’s right shoulder.

“And the collarbone? Is it okay?” Mickey asked, concern written all over his face.

“Uh, it was the other side, but it’s fine. No lasting effects.”

Mickey took his hand away and Ian missed it immediately.

“Mickey…I’m, I’m sorry for what Lip…for Lip telling your dad it was your fault I fell and broke my collarbone. It wasn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault at all…”

“Ian, it’s okay. I was actually grateful Lip showed up at my house to tell on me. I really thought you were dead and I was practically out of my mind I was so upset. I didn’t even feel it when my dad went at me-all I knew was you were okay and that’s all that mattered.”

Ian wanted to say something more, to apologize more, to say that Mickey’s dad was an evil psychotic prick, but Mickey honestly seemed past the hurt that was always right under the surface for Ian. He still felt gypped out of ten years of having a best friend. But crying over it wouldn’t change it, so Ian decided to take a cue from Mickey and just move forward instead of looking back.

But there was one thing Ian still felt awful about, and he tried to apologize, saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye…”

“ _Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting_ ,” Mickey said seriously, looking right into Ian’s eyes.

The kid cleaning up the seating area had finished with the lower floor and had cleaned the other VIP tables. Mickey and Ian left their table so it could be taken care of as well. They pulled their coats on and Mickey grabbed his clarinet case and they made their way out into the cold night.

Ian was reluctant to part with Mickey, but the hour was very late-or very early-and he figured they both needed to get to their homes.

“It was great bumping into you, Mickey. I thought I’d never see you again,” Ian blurted out.

 _“Never is an awfully long time_ ,” Mickey said, “I’m glad I bumped into you too.” He smiled at Ian. Again, Ian didn’t want to leave. He felt more comfortable with Mickey, closer to Mickey, than he had ever felt with all the men he’d been intimate with. Mickey just seemed to know him, had always seemed to know him, better than everyone, even Lip, even Fiona. Just being near Mickey made Ian feel like anything was possible in his life. He felt like he could fly, as long as he had Mickey by his side. Mickey made him feel like he was a kid again, when life held infinite promises and opportunities.

“I don’t want the night to end, but I suppose it has to, since it’s not my birthday anymore,” Ian said.

“Did you make a birthday wish?” Mickey asked.

Ian thought about it. “I didn’t, but I have one now,” Ian said.

“Too bad you can’t tell me, but if you do, it won’t come true,” Mickey said.

“Since there’s no candle to blow out, there’s a loophole,” Ian told him.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey said, and raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Ian said, and briefly wondered how much influence being raised by Terry had had over the intervening years. He decided to go for it anyway. “I’d really like a birthday kiss.”

“Pretty sure you owe me one of those first,” Mickey said.

“You gonna put your hand out for it?”

Mickey smiled a big smile. “I’ll put my hand wherever you want it when it’s your turn, but, if it’s okay with you, for my kiss I’ll put my hands right here.” And he put his hands on the back of Ian’s neck and pulled him into a kiss that held a promise that he’d never be truly apart from Ian again.

And they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! I hope you enjoyed my little tale inspired greatly by Noel's quote about wanting a job where he never had to grow up (of course I can't find a link to it right now) and this photo of him: http://koganphrancis.tumblr.com/post/157531504683/laylaalizadapr-twitter


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